


I object

by Youshallneverknow123



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, John - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, Post-Fall, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock is like hell no, Wedding, holmes - Freeform, johnwithmary, watson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 15:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6615826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youshallneverknow123/pseuds/Youshallneverknow123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been years since Sherlocks passing and everyone else has moved on except John but he has tried, on his wedding day John looks his bride in the eye with a crooked smile, she grabs his hands and tells him where ever Sherlock is he is happy for him, right after the priest says "if these two should not be wed speak now or forever hold your peace" everyone gets a text that reads<br/>I object-SH</p><p>This story idea comes from tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I still miss him

**Author's Note:**

> I'M NEW!!!! Go easy. :\

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> currently rewrote this chapter hopefully it's better.

John doesn't particularly remember the journey or arriving at the church, just a few vague shoves and pushes around the stone structure until he was thrust into what he can only assume was the room in which he was meant to wait in until the ceremony started. To preoccupied with his thoughts to take notice. He tried not to think about .....him, every time he did it just reopened the old wounds which he tried to keep stitched shut. John had done a pretty good job in the last few months in keeping pleasant thoughts and not dwelling on the past. But lately, in the weeks coming up to the wedding his mind has been letting thoughts seep through, every now and again there will be just a few words coming from his subconscious. Like he was having an internal conversation with himself but one of the parties involved didn't have his voice or his words, this person would reply with 'boring' or 'idiot'. Now standing alone in the empty room beside a full-length mirror John wondered if he was going mad, of course, he was he was having daily chats with his dead friend of two years who had taken up residence in his subconscious. In a normal circumstance, he should have had all his best men there to give him pep talks or attempting to scare him about the imprisonment of marriage, but John didn't have many friends nowadays he sort of pushed them away after the fall, in fact, he only had one. Greg, Greg had been Johns stability after the incident with Sherlock. He was the one that stopped John from engaging in anything stupid and or fatal. This had brought them closer and they had actually become great friends. In an attempt to clear his mind of all thoughts of Sherlock he started to look around the room. The church was nice from what he remembered about it from previous viewings with Mary. It was an early 18th-century gothic building, it was a bit worse for wear but this gave it character that's why both Mary and John felt drawn to it, it was damaged just like he was.

The morning of the rest of his life, of his wedding day didn't feel any different than any other. All the days have been the same recently. It just goes to show though that all the movies and songs are full of shit, that getting married was not, in fact, this huge warm feeling that completely consumes you with happiness. There were no butterflies in his stomach, his heart didn't skip a beat, his pulse hadn't accelerated. But maybe that had nothing to do with the day, but to whom he was about to get married to.

It's not that Mary was awful; in fact, she was extremely nice and they were good friends. In another life, they probably would have been all loved up like they were supposed to be, in a life before Sherlock. But in this life, he couldn't help comparing her to him - the man that made John's heart beat quicker by just the mention of his name. at the beginning, john didn't realise that what he felt was not platonic, nevertheless in time after a minute crisis John had realised and fully accepted his feelings for Sherlock long before he fell from Bart's hospital. He compared them because Mary was everything Sherlock was not and maybe that's why he had chosen her. John had never intentionally brought it to Sherlock's attention because Sherlock made it quite clear on the night they met, didn't feel things like that and relationships were not his 'area'. He was 'married to his work,' and even though John had fallen tenfold for him, he would much rather be his friend over telling him how he felt and then having to move out of Baker street because of the awkwardness. Hell, he would have taken just being able to see him every day. God that's pathetic, John cringed but it was true. Anyway, that's no longer the case, and maybe he could learn to really love Mary. It probably will just take some time. Some more time John corrected himself.

There was a knock on the door, making John jump and disrupting his thoughts. "Yeah, come in, it's open!" John shouted as he looked at himself in the mirror, schooling his face and making sure he looked okay. He was wearing just your average black and white tux, nothing special. But he still looked good in it.

Greg came into the room. "John, mate are you ready! It's the big day" he enthusiastically said as he turned to close the door. His smile dropped slightly as he faced back around and saw John's face. He has known him for too long and seen that look on his face to many times, the look that he put on when hiding what he truly felt. He could tell that something's wrong. "John, are you okay?" He knew he wasn't, but he asked anyway.

John put on his best smile he knew it didn't quite reach his eyes and cleared his throat. "Yeah of course, why wouldn't I be? I'm getting married" He asks quizzically.

Greg stood kind of awkwardly, debating with himself on whether or not he should say anything because John was right he was getting married and you aren't supposed to bring up somebody's dead 'possibly-could-have-been-a-thing-if-he-hadn't-killed-himself-person' up on a day like today because it could cause some problems. But by Johns body language he could tell he was already thinking about Sherlock. "it's just that" he took a paused thinking of the best way to end that sentence. Eventually, he decided on "you seem distracted".

"is it that obvious?" John questioned raising an eyebrow.

"Only to me mate, everyone else will put it down to nerves" Greg laughed attempted to lighten the mood. Greg held eye contact with John wanting to ask something but not sure if he should.

John noticed the eye contact and after a few awkward attempts of trying to break it by looking off to the side and around the room he eventually breathed out "what".

Still staring Greg decided to just go for it "I thought you had gotten better, gotten over it"

"I have" John muttered the lie looking away from Greg while fiddling with his tie to avoid more eye contact.

why was he still madly in love with the person that has been dead for two years- who tore his heart apart by killing himself so easily, like it was nothing like it wouldn't affect John's life in any way. John was also angry because he was in love, had been in love with a man who managed to spill everyone's life story just by the way they stand and how they blink, or something stupid like that. A man who didn't notice John's feelings- or maybe he did and simply just didn't give a shit. Still in love with the man who is the last thought that goes through his head at night and the first in the morning when he shouldn't be he had no right to be. Still in love with the man who just wasn't here anymore. It pissed John off to no end that he couldn't just let go and move on, he thought he did until today where all the feelings and memories came back. Was it always going to be like this John thought to himself? John could see by Greg's reaction that his face was telling Greg everything that had just gone through his mind. He could feel his eyes watering, and a single tear drop spilled from his eye and down his cheek onto his suit jacket. Then another. John used his hand to try and hide his face. However, Greg moved forward and pulled John into a tight hug. John screwed his fist in the back of Greg's jacket. He couldn't hold back the pent up emotion he had repressed for months anymore; the dam just broke and so did he. They stood there for a while until John was finished. Greg looked into John's teary eyes with his own eyes welling up. He was so close to the both when Sherlock was alive, and he knew the mutual feeling between the pair, even if they never admitted it. He was so close to them he could feel the pain his friend was in now. "I'm sorry, John," he whispered with a squeeze on John's shoulder. John wiped his eyes with the side of his hand like a tired child would. John could sense the accusation in Greg's voice "No, it's not like that. I just miss him, that's all," John said, trying to smile but completely failing.

"John, please don't lie to me," Greg said, removing his hand.

"I.. I don't not anymore. I just miss him tha...t's all. I....." John swallowed, looking away from Greg "I. Love.....Mary" he said firmly, not only trying to convince Greg but also himself. Because if you say something over and over, it starts to become true, right. John could hear the weakness in his own voice. Part of him didn't want to move on and start a new life, but he didn't have an old one to go back to. So he has no choice. 'Onwards and upwards,' as they say.

"You don't have to go through with this, you know," Greg said with soft features and with a slight nod. As if urging him to call the whole thing off.

John took in a deep breath through his nose. "What do you want me to say, Greg?" his voice slowly filled with frustration because he didn't have the power to change anything. "That I wish I could give it all away, everything that I have built with Mary to run around London and do it all just one more time?" John was shouting now. "That if I could trade it in for one more moment with him, that I'll do it in a heartbeat, just to tell Sherlock what I never told him before? Tell him all the things that I left unsaid, all the things I should have told him, all the things I meant to say before he died?" The anger fell away and just left sadness and regret. He started crying again but this time it was because of frustration. "Tell him the things I never told him because I thought I had time to wait to tell him that I lo...." He swallowed, shaking his head. "That if there was some way to bring him back I would drop everything? That if I could call out his name and he would come running back that I would what, just leave Mary and go back to my old life with him? Is that what you want me to say, Greg? To spill my heart out about something that's. not. Going. To. happen?" Anger refilled his voice because he hates the fact that it can't happen. He can't stand it. His eyes met Greg's with an intense gaze that could put even Sherlock's to shame. They stood like this for a while.

When he finally let up, he wiped his eyes one more time before leaving the room to get everything ready and welcome the guest. He hoped they couldn't tell that he had been crying.


	2. I feel at piece in the rain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any errors.

As John closed the door, he leant his back on it, trying to compose himself, ready to face his guests. It was still quite early, and there wasn't much guests here yet, so John just walked around the grounds interior for a bit. 

It was raining; people usually see that as a bad thing. Not John, though. He loved the rain. He felt at peace when it rained. He liked the pitter-patter of the drops hitting the buildings. He found it relaxing and calming- probably because it was linked in with old memories. 

John came across an old wooden window. Sitting down on the ledge, he watched as the water fell from the sky, remembering when he was a child. He and Harry used to race home from the park when it started to pour down, trying to get home quickly so their mother wouldn't go mad at them for staying out to long. Harry would always try and trip John up. She was successful at the beginning, but John soon picked up on her body language and could tell when she was about to strike. John's face broke out into a smile. The few guests that are here probably mistook it for some sort of happiness because he's about to get married. They were wrong.

He also remembered cases with Sherlock that involved chasing criminals half way across London and getting caught in a down pour. Rain soaking through layers of their clothing, but neither of them noticing because of the adrenaline until they returned to Baker Street and were confronted with a seething Mrs. Hudson ranting on about how they will get a fever if they were going to just stand there in their sopping wet clothes all night. It reminded John of his own mother. At the time, John chuckled and informed her once again that he was a doctor and knew what caused fevers, and that they both are two grown men and can take care of themselves, so she shouldn't worry. She would give him a look and tell him that when he gets ill, don't expect her to wait on him hand and foot, because he's a doctor and a grown up so he can look after himself. Mrs. Hudson was surprisingly good with sarcasm. As John would make this comment, Sherlock would always jump in using here own words against her: "I thought you were our landlady, not own housekeeper." She would huff and walk away, only to later appear in their flat with two cups of tea.

John was brought out of this memory when somebody tapped his shoulder. He turned around to see Mrs. Hudson. "Hello love, how are you?" she asked, giving his arm a squeeze.

John was glad that she was here, because she was like a mother to him. And since his mother couldn't be here, he hasn't lost out on the supportive motherly figure. "I'm good. You didn't get too wet getting here, did you?"

She pulled on his arm and started walking. "Oh no no dear, I split a cab here with Molly and her partner, Tom. He reminds me of Sherlock a bit. They have the same kind of hair," she giggled.

John got slightly annoyed at the fact that Molly just seemed to replace him with a lookalike. It's insulting to Sherlock. He was like nobody else on the planet. He was brilliant, he was unique, and his space can't be filled by some random man. Okay, well, to be fair, it's not psychically his space because he never had feelings like that for Molly, but Molly was mad about him, so she has kind of hypothetically filled his spot.

Mrs. Hudson noticed that John had gone quiet and decided to stop in front of him. "He wouldn't agree with the wedding, you know. He's wasn't like that," she said firmly. She looked upset. John knew that she had always assumed that they would end up together, or were already together and just hiding it from her. His loss broke her heart just as much as it did John, if not more so, because she also witnessed John's falling apart. "But, if this is what you really want, he would be happy for you. If it's what you really want?" she asked skeptically as she touched his cheek. His fake smile dropped.

"Of course it's what I want," John huffed out a weak chuckle. She just stared at him for a while. 

"John, I think I have known you long enough now to know when you're lying." Her hand fell.

"I'm not," John mumbled. "I want to marry her." John took a pause and looked away, blinking his eyes to keep them dry. "I.." John coughed "I love her." He says with a smile. 

"Your smile tells me that you believe that, but your eyes say that's not quite true," she said in a hushed tone, with her own eyes filling. She clutched John's arm. 

"Trust me," John said. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," she replied. 

"Then don't look!" John snapped. He was just fed up of people saying that he looks sad when he can't change it. "Sorry," he said as he walked out of the hallway.

The bells in the church chimed, which meant he had to go and get ready for the ceremony. As John walked up to the alter, he noticed the place was full of people. When did they get here? he thought to himself. Anyway, it doesn't matter now. He was where he was meant to be standing, and as the music started playing, he heard foot steps and eventually felt a hand slip into his. Mary. She looked nice, but John has never looked at anyone the same why he looked at him. Nobody else could compare anymore. Mary squeezed his hand. John looked his bride in the eye with a crooked smile, and she squeezed his hands and told him "Wherever Sherlock is, he is happy for you." John thought to himself, I don't want him to be happy for me, I want him here with me.

But that no longer matters. John put on his happiest face, and the ceremony continued. "If these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace." Suddenly the whole room chimed. People started tutting. Greg was the first one to pull out his phone, because this hasn't happen since Sherlock.... Well, you know. And he's never seen somebody else do it. Yes, it could just be a coincidence, but you know what Sherlock used to say: "The universe is rarely so lazy." He read the text and his eyes shot towards John.

John doesn't understand what the look means until the other guest start to look at their phones. Mary's guests had no idea what the text meant. John's guests, however, gasped and also stared at John with open-mouthed expressions. They knew his methods. John looked around, then at the priest, and then at Mary. His pocket vibrated again. Mary nodded her head forward towards his pocket, indicating for him to look. He and Mary both looked together. John's heart stopped when he read the text that everyone got. A text that read:

I object-SH

And the one just for him:

John, You know where to find me.-SH

He turned to look at Mary.


	3. In your hesitation

They shared eye contact until John realised that there was a question that Mary had worn on her lips for months after John confided in her about his feelings toward Sherlock, like a loose thread that you couldn't resist pulling despite the fact that it could unravel and fall apart. 

"Do you love me?" Mary muttered, looking John in the eye, looking for a tell of some sort. Mary was the only one John actually told about his feelings for Sherlock. He thought that if he was open with her, she could understand his mourning and help him move past it to start a new life with her. Help him let Sherlock go.

During the months following the announcement, she always bit her tongue to stop from asking the question because she knew Sherlock wasn't physically here to compete against. However, that didn't mean she wasn't competing with his ghost. Mary never meant that in a possessive way. It was more like she understood how strong the bond was between the two. She had heard about John and Sherlock's 'relationship' before, and knew how close they were. People told her how they'd saved each other from destructive paths.

John hesitated to answer, not wanting to lie to her face. That was the tell Mary was waiting for. A sigh escaped her lips as her shoulders slouched and her head turned slightly towards the floor. It happened subtly enough that the audience in the church couldn't tell anything was wrong.

"I don't know what to say," John whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear.

"It's okay," Mary whispered back. "I know what we are, and I know what we're not." A sort of sadness clouded her features. "I know who I'm not." 

"Mary I...I'm-" John tried to speak. Mary cut him off.

"There is so much history between you two. The look in your eyes when you talk about him... In the way you say his name."

"I don't love Sherlock anymore," John mumbled, mainly trying to convince himself that it was true. As if, if he said it enough, it would suddenly become true and he wouldn't walk around with a stabbing pain in his stomach whenever anyone talked about Sherlock. 

"And again, it's the way that you say his name that makes me think otherwise." Mary's eyes became glossy. "Go".

"What?" John questioned.

"Go to him," she said.

"What? No, I can't, I....I can't do that."

"Really John, we can talk after we sort this out. Just go now, and I will tell everyone something to cover you until we decide what's happening," she replied back, trying to sound strong. She did a better job than John ever did. He nodded and turned to look at their guests on Mary's side, still in a state of confusion, and his own guests, waiting to see what he would do.

Greg cleared his throat to get John's attention, which it did. He leaned his head forward as signal to tell John to go. John just stood there staring at them all for a minute when Mary put a hand on his shoulder. He whipped his head towards her. She had a small forced smile on her face, telling him it's okay. With that, John started to walk away from the alter slowly, with all eyes on him and a few gasps from the crowd. Just before the halfway point, John realised that he had ignored his own feelings since the text. He guessed he had gotten used to that lately, putting others' feelings first. But the truth is that John couldn't even comprehend what he was feeling- happiness, excitement, and relief, but there was something else.

When this realisation hit, he started to run down the rest of the aisle towards the door. He swung it open, hearing it slam behind him as he sprinted down the hallway to the exit. He came up to the large oak door. He could hear the rain pelting down outside as he opened the door, but he didn't care. He just ran like he was running for his life. His suit jacket was soaked and started restricting his arms from moving. While he was still legging it down the street about five minuets from Baker Street, he pulled the jacket off and let it fall to the floor.

At Baker Street, he bumped into someone and gave off a quick apology, but never stopped. He sprinted right past Baker Street, knowing that Sherlock was too big of a showoff to have their reunion there. When he got to his destination, the rain had let up. His breath was ragged, his shirt was clinging to him, and water was still dripping down his face. He looked up at the building that he hadn't been to since Sherlock fell. He walked inside, ignoring the strange glances that he received, and began to make his way to the roof.

His eyes fell upon the familiar figure standing with his back to him near the middle of the roof. At this point, he realised what the other feeling was. John walked silently up to him, seething with anger. He tapped him on the shoulder. As he turned around, John landed a blow right to the "dead" man's jaw. A crack echoed around them.

"Good to see you too," Sherlock quipped, bringing his hand to his face. 

"Fuck you," John said in a low voice


End file.
